Marching On

Bloody lucky

So I was driving along the QE2 bridge yesterday.  Nice day, good views.  Lots of traffic.

The car in front braked.

And I didn't.

There are several options when your car is heading towards a stationary object.  You can brake and stop.  Since I didn't notice the object in time, that wasn't a realistic option.

You can swerve and avoid the object.  I was on a crowded bridge.  That left only one option. 

Smack into the back of the car in front. 

Luckily for me I wasn't going very fast when I hit.  Maybe 20 mph.  But the impact was enough to turn my stereo off, and send everything in the car flying forward.

Hazards on, engine off, glares from the lane of traffic I have just brought to halt.  Time to inspect the damage I wrought to my beloved little car, and the car I ploughed into.

Unbelievably there was not a mark to be seen.  His car was intact.  My car was intact.  It did not seem possible that I just smacked into him.  No dents, broken lights, marked bumpers or scratched paintwork.

So after exchanging pleasantries instead of insurance details, we parted and went our separate ways.

I swear I do not know where my mind is these days.  If you see it, I could really do with it back.

Der der der der

I'm getting married!

Urm...

I just read back my last post, and it does kind of read that I was responsible for the tooth loss in some way involving my knuckle.

I have slandered myself.  The above is a steaming pile of hotspur.

Lila was in fact bullying her uncle.  She stole his favourite bone and paraded around him gloating.  He sat down and scratched - he is far too much of a gentleman (or a coward) to tackle her.  She sat and chewed his bone for several hours, her eyes never leaving her uncle.

I just had a phonecall from my mother to tell me she found a tooth next to the bone.  And to ask me if I wanted to save it (?!).  Clearly even my own mother thinks I need a baby instead of a house full of pets.

My bleeding knuckle stems from (imagine a very deep, male voice, probably with a corny American accent) a  reality tv show soon to be aired - "When Bathtimes Go Wrong".

Lila was covered in Sam's drool, mud, her own piss (she ran through an accident she had earlier, slid and fell straight in), and her own vomit (she gets car sick).  So she needed a bath.

However, Miss Lila was a tad unimpressed with this.  After barking incessantly at the shower head, she decided to growl at the shampoo bottle.  Then she tried to catch the water stream with her mouth, missed, and removed a chunk of my hand.

Now, are babies any easier?

And I didn't keep the tooth.  Just in case you were wondering.

Bugger

I am supposed to be heading to South London for a meeting about now. 

One small problem..........I can't remember what time I am supposed to be there!

Smeg indeed!

Hayfever.

Cousin It no more

I finally set foot inside a hairdresser's.

I hadn't had my hair cut in around ten months.  And it showed.  God, did it show!  Remnants of fucking scarlet mixed in with Brazilian Brown.  Split ends up to my ears and broken hairs from badly placed slides.

I don't really like going to the hairdressers.  The mindless and artificial small talk that one is obliged to partake in pisses me off no end, and I always without fail forget to put in contact lens so I can see what they are doing. Plus the tea always tastes like crap.

And yesterday was no different.

Many moons ago I used to be a skinhead.  I loved it - no buggering about in the morning with hairbrushes, hot brushes and other hair shit.  Get out the shower and be ready to go.

Times change and hair grows.  My hair had reached lengths not seen since primary school and had managed to cascade down my back, like a brown and scabby waterfall.  It had to go.

I went in at the appointed time.  I had no clue what I wanted, except to lose as much hair as possible. 

The stylist was aghast at her mission.

"Cut off all your hair?  Are you sure you want to do this?  How about we go for a chin length bob and if you want it shorter, you can always come back"

I was determined, if vague about small matters such as style.  The hair had to go.  We flicked through some magazines to get an idea of what I wanted.  And we found it.

Snip, snip, snip.

Hair piled up around our feet, despite the best efforts of the salon junior.  I didn't get to see too much of the transformation as I was without glasses for most of it.

I put my glasses back on and looked in the mirror.  Greeting me was someone I hadn't seen in years, and hadn't realised just how much I missed. 

Me. 

There be snow!!!

The weather forecast actually got it right.

My newly dug garden is buried under a thick blanket of snow.  And it is fucking freezing!

Now who's bright idea was it to move to the top of a hill in the middle on nowhere?

Nerd alert

al

Spot the doggy

One of those cute little puppies is Lila. Future maniac in the house of Monsters.

Fucking hell

I feel ill. And saddened.

Goodbye clean air.

Goodbye to a meaningful right to choose.

Goodbye to any real homosexual rights.

Goodbye to civil liberties.

Goodbye to more lives lost in a meaningless war.

Still, people get what they vote for. And if people vote for a smirking little fucktard who can't string together a meaningful sentence, and wouldn't know the truth if it was smacked round his smirking little face, well that is what people get. And deserve. Well done, USA.

It is s shame that the rest of the world must suffer the consequences. War on terror my arse. The world's biggest terrorist has just been given free reign for another four years.

Thanks.